


Furied Heart

by Overdressedtokill (SkyeStan)



Series: Vamps AU [5]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood, F/M, Mind Control, There are other characters but spoilers sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 08:30:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3202508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyeStan/pseuds/Overdressedtokill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skye fights against her kidnapper the best she can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Furied Heart

Skye might be in trouble.  She can’t entirely be sure.  She has no idea where she’s going or who she’s with.  Every time she tries panic, it just gets pressed back down.  Droned out.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she’s fighting.  She knows, faintly, that she’s lost control.  But that seems so far away.

“You shouldn’t feel bad,” her kidnapper says.  “Most are so weak-willed that they don’t even struggle at all.”

“Struggle against what?” Skye says.

The woman gives Skye a smile.  “Me, of course.”

Skye tilts her head.  “Oh.”

“Look at your maker,” the woman continues. “He didn’t stand a chance.  And he’s so much older than you.”

“What did you do to him?” Skye asks.  “You didn’t hurt him, did you?”

“No, no,” the woman says.  “I just made him leave.  So I could have you all to myself.”

A flare of panic, quickly smothered.

“Not like that,” the woman says.  “If I wanted sex, I would’ve taken him.”

“Leave Grant alone,” Skye says.  She manages to muster a feeling of disgust.  This woman would take Grant.  She’d force Grant to have sex with her.

“It’s not force,” she says.

“Get out of my head,” Skye demands.

“I would if you’d just behave,” she snaps.

Skye snarls.  “Fuck yo-”

“Stop talking,” the woman says, and Skye does.  She can’t even whisper. 

She tries to muster her disgust again.  Find something to push through the fog that’s made its home in her head.

“You really are spirited, aren’t you?” the woman says.

Skye doesn’t respond.  She can’t.  The woman is well aware of this, and grins.

“You haven’t even asked who I am,” she says, faking offense.  She doesn’t drop her smile.  “I’m Lorelei,” she says.  “I’ll be taking on the role of your maker, from now on.”

Skye feels her stomach lurch.  She tries to yell “What?” to no avail.

“You’re so young,” Lorelei says, answering Skye’s unspoken question.  “Full of potential.  It comes off you in waves.  And he had no idea.  He was treating you like a little sister.  A friend.”

Skye has no idea why either of those options are bad ones.  Maybe she needs someone to look after her.  Maybe she could use a friend right about now.

“You won’t mind, soon enough,” Lorelei says. “I’m sure you’ll grow quite fond of me.

Skye feels like she’s not going to have any say in the matter.

Lorelei clicks her tongue. “That’s the spirit,” Lorelei says, sweetly.  “Why, if you gave up right now, this would all go smoothly.”

Skye manages to twitch her fingers, just a little bit.  Her intention had been to make a fist, but that’s not going to happen.

Lorelei shrugs her slender shoulders. “You’ll learn. You have an excellent teacher.”  A pause.  A brush of Lorelei’s hand on Skye’s arm.  “Come back to me, Skye.”

  
  


It feels like having a rubberband snapped inside her head.  She suddenly remembers following Lorelei out of the mall, through the city, into a bar.  She remembers ordering a drink, smiling at the bartender, leaning in to talk.

And she remembers being told to ‘tune out.’

She had, without thinking. Maybe her resistance wasn’t that great, after all.

She wants to be scared.

She aches for Grant.  She remembers Lorelei telling him to take the bags to the car, the way he’d just turned on his heel and left.  Even after Skye called after him to wait.  To stay.  Lorelei’s hand had gripped her arm and tugged her in the opposite direction, and Grant couldn’t hear her crying out for him.

It isn’t his fault.  It isn’t Skye’s fault, either.  There’s only one person here to be angry at.  Skye needs to focus on that.

Lorelei rests her arms delicately on the bar.  “We should sit,” Lorelei says.  “And you should stop being so angry, dear.”

“So turn it off,” Skye says.  She can speak again.  Not loudly.  “If you want me so badly, just turn it off.”

“If you don’t suffer, you won’t learn,” Lorelei says.  “And wallowing in your own useless anger seems like suffering to me.”

“Let me go,” Skye says.

Lorelei tilts her head.  Studies Skye’s face.  “No,” she says.  “I don’t think I will.”  She smiles sweetly.  It doesn’t meet her eyes.

Lorelei takes Skye’s hand and pulls her towards the back of the bar.

“Where are we going?” Skye says.  She’d tug against Lorelei’s hand, if she could.  It’s cold and unyielding and it feels wrong, Lorelei’s skin against Skye’s own.  Just her touch feels like a violation.

“Just to a table,” Lorelei says.  “Don’t be so dramatic.”

  
  


Lorelei practically throws Skye into the U-shaped booth, then slides in beside her.  

“There,” she says.  “Much nicer than standing at the bar.”

“Someone’s going to notice that there’s something wrong,” Skye says. “Someone’s going to see that I’m in trouble.”

“You can’t move any more than I tell you to,” Lorelei says.  “You can’t scream.  You can barely panic.  How exactly, do you figure someone will help?”

Skye looks down to her hands.  Grant will find her.  Grant will help.

Right?

 “Why are you doing this to me?” Skye asks.

Lorelei covers Skye’s hand with her own.  Skye would flinch if she could.  “Because you’re special,” Lorelei says.  “And you belong with other special individuals.”

“Aren’t all vampires special?” Skye says, trying to will her hand to move.  “Isn’t that kind of the point?”

Lorelei smiles with her bright white teeth.  “My dear,” she says. “You have no idea.”

  
  


Skye doesn’t want to know what that means.  She doesn’t need to know what kind of excuses Lorelei’s come up with for kidnapping her.  She doesn’t want to know Lorelei’s reasoning.  She doubts it makes any sense.

Skye watches her kidnapper, for a moment.  Running her free hand along her pale collarbone.  Watching the crowd.  She’s waiting.

“You’re hunting,” Skye says, quietly.

“You recognize it,” Lorelei says. “You used to do the same thing, didn’t you?  But not for blood.  For what?  Money?”

Skye keeps her mouth shut.

“Answer me,” Lorelei says.

“For money and pills,” Skye says.

That’s amusing to Lorelei.  That’s funny.  It lights up her whole face.  “How human,” she says.  “Well, then,” she says.  “If you know how to do it, then do it.”

“What?” Skye asks.

“Pick a victim,” Lorelei says.  “We’ve got a long way to go, and you can’t travel on an empty stomach.”

“So then I won’t eat,” Skye says.

Lorelei digs her nails into Skye’s palm.  “Why do you continue to do this to me?” she asks, concerned.  “Why do you want me to make you suffer?”

“You know,” Skye says.  “I’m not as stupid as you think I am.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“I’m not doing jack shit to you,” Skye says.  “If you’re going to try to guilt me, you should at least have made sure I didn’t know that trick.”

“Clever girl,” Lorelei says.  “Now pick.”

“No,” Skye says.

“I’ll pick someone for you,” Lorelei says.  “And I doubt you’ll be happy with it.”

“I’m not leaving this city,” Skye says.  “I’m not leaving Grant behind.”

Lorelei gives a disappointed little sigh.  “Still hung up on him?”

“He’s my maker,” Skye says.

“You’re 24 hours old,” Lorelei says.  “That barely means anything to you.”

“It means plenty,” Skye says.

“You’re just being petulant,” Lorelei says.

“I’m not a child,” Skye says.  “I’m not a plaything.  You can’t just kidnap me.  You took me from my maker, you have no idea who I am, and now you’re trying to-”

“I’m trying to make you better,” Lorelei snaps.  “But if you insist on fighting me, then I’ll give you a fight.  Get up.”

Skye moves out of the booth.

“You have thirty seconds,” Lorelei says.  “Pick someone.”

Skye manages to turn her head in Lorelei’s direction.  “Or you’ll what?”

A smirk.  “That lovely couple over there,” Lorelei says, gesturing in their direction.  They’re young.  Early twenties.  They’re just having drinks.  “I’ll make you kill one of them in front of the other,” Lorelei says.  “I’ll make sure one of them stays alive just long enough to lose all hope.”

“You can’t do that,” Skye says.  “You can’t make me kill someone.”

“Stand on one foot,” Lorelei says.  Skye does.  “Stick your tongue out.”  She tries not to. “Those are just your motor functions.  Minor things.  Imagine if I had you turn off your humanity?”

Skye’s still standing on one foot.  She manages to say “What?” past her tongue.

That damned smirk.  That damned smugness.  “You can go back to normal,” Lorelei commands.  “Go out to the alley.  Stay there until I get you.  Don’t move.  Don’t try to contact anyone for help.  Don’t even think until I get out there.”

Without thinking, Skye goes.  She moves outside to the alley, ignoring the lights, the voices, the bodies besides her.  She finds herself outside and doesn’t find it strange.  She leans against the brick wall, under the street light.

Something in her tries to protest.  She doesn’t listen.

  
  


“Here,” Lorelei says, and there’s the feeling of being woken up again.  Lorelei’s holding someone by the arm.  It’s not the couple.  Skye doesn’t recognize him.  “I decided to give you this small mercy.”

“Small mercy?” Skye asks.  She feels dizzy.  Sick.

“I’m sparing the couple,” Lorelei says.  “I found this one.  He’s absolutely unaware.  You know what that’s like by now, don’t you?”

Skye presses her palms flat against the wall.  Why can’t she run?  She just wants to run.  “Please don’t do this.”

“Drink him dry,” Lorelei says.  “Now.”

Skye bites her lip.  Shakes her head.  She can’t do this.  Grant said she’d kill someone and she will.  That’s exactly what Lorelei wants. 

“Come on,” Lorelei says.  “Killing’s not so bad.  He’s just a human.”

“So was I,” Skye says.

“And now you’re better,” Lorelei says.  She shoves the body towards Skye.  Warm body, full of blood.  And she is so hungry…

“I don’t want to,” Skye says.

“Yes you do,” Lorelei says.  “So do it.”

“No,” Skye says, weakly.  

“Do it!”

It’s like the waitress all over again.  Just the feeling of hunger, overwhelming her.  The urge to sate herself, to take.  She doesn’t think.  She just eats.

She’s killing him.  Some stranger, full of warm blood.  He’s going to die if she doesn’t stop.

But she can’t.  It feels too good to stop.

Lorelei’s right.  She’s a monster.  She’s supposed to do this.  She’s supposed to kill.  It feels right.  It feels-

  
  


“Skye!” she hears, and that snaps her out of it.  She knows that voice.  She does.

He found her.  For the second night, Grant’s found her.  He’s going to save her.  He’s going to make it okay.  Skye almost drops the man she’s holding in her arms.  Almost runs to Grant.  Almost wraps her arms around him and begs him to take her home.

But Lorelei’s stepped right in front of Skye.  And Skye still can’t move.  So that’s an issue.

“You can leave,” Lorelei says.

“Not going to happen,” Grant snaps.  “Give her back, and I’ll make this quick.”

Lorelei laughs.  It’s not a pleasant sound.  “Is that a death threat?” she asks.  “You’re a tenth my age.  You don’t stand a chance.”

“I’m scrappy,” Grant says.  That’s almost a joke. 

“You’re not getting her back,” Lorelei says.  “She’s practically my progeny already.”

Skye could scream.  But there’s something in her head, stronger than before.  Telling her to keep quiet.

“You’re lying” Grant says.  Skye wants to tell him that he’s right.  That she’s still on his side.  That there’s been voices in her head all night and please help, Grant please, but she can’t speak.  She can’t move.

“I wanted your progeny,” Lorelei says, simple as that.  “So I took her.”

It’s enough to make Grant snarl.  “She’s mine.”

That’s reassuring, though Skye doesn’t know why.  It makes her feel like she has backup.  For once, she’s not alone in this.

Lorelei just gives him a smug little smile.  “You should be impressed that you even found her.  That’s quite well done, for someone your age.”

“I had help,” Grant says.

“

Skye remembers, faintly, teasing Grant about how he looked with his fangs out.  That he was cute.  Adorable like a puppy.  But he’s nothing like that.  He’s a wild beast, and his ‘murder face’ is downright fucking terrifying.  

He lunges.  And Skye can tell, from where he’s standing, that it’s sloppy.  That it’s off.  He’s left himself open.  Why would he do that?  What is he-

  
  


Lorelei rips his throat open in one clean go, and Skye screams inside her own head.  No, no, please.  He had just been trying to help, he took her out even though he didn’t want to go.  He’d saved her.  He’d let her into his home.  He lays at Lorelei’s feet, twitching and bleeding.

Lorelei wipes the blood off on her skirt.  She turns to Skye, a fond sort of look flitting across her sharp features.  “You may speak,” Lorelei says.  “But only very quietly.”

“Is he dead?” Skye whispers.  She heaves out one tiny sob.

Lorelei looks down at Grant’s body, looks back at Skye.  She lets out a small laugh.  “Oh no, dear.”  She steps over him, grabs Skye by the throat.  “He’s not dead.  But he won’t be healed until we’re long gone.”  She knocks the body out of Skye’s arms, sends it sprawling.  He’s not dead.  Skye didn’t kill him.  Grant’s not dead, either.  They can’t be dead.  She can’t have caused two deaths in one night.

Skye blinks back tears.  “Please,” Skye whispers. “I don’t want to be yours.”  She wants to go home.  She wants to go back to her van.  She wants to hide for real, for once, and not have anyone hurt her.

“Oh darling,” Lorelei says.  Her free hand wipes tears from Skye’s cheeks. “Don’t cry over him.  You won’t remember him soon.”

Another choked-out sob.  “Please,” Skye says.  “Please let me go, please-”

“That’s enough talking,” Lorelei says, softly, and it’s like Skye’s voice has left her body.  She pins Skye against the brick wall, smoothes her hair.  “Just look up dear.  Right into my eyes.”

Skye tries not to.  She really does.  She can’t stop herself.  She has to.   “Please,” she mouths.  She wants her free will.  She wants Grant.  She wants to go home. 

“Shh,” Lorelei says.  “It’s alright.  You don’t have to be afraid.”

Skye tries one more time to shut her eyes.

“Now,” Lorelei says.  “Where to start?  Perhaps with your maker.  I want you to think of him.  Gather everything you can in your head about him.”

This is her fault.  This is all her fault.  “I don’t want to,” Skye whispers.

“Do it,” Lorelei says.  “Your resistance is wearing on my nerves.”

Skye barely gets a chance to register what that means.  She has a dull realization that Lorelei had been holding back.  Toying with Skye, like this is some kind of game.

It’s not a game anymore.  It’s vicious and all consuming and it  _hurts._

The thoughts hit Skye before she can remember to push them away.  There aren’t a lot of them, but they’re hers, and they matter.  They’re the only thing she’s got now, and she can’t lose them.  She can’t lose this already.

“All gathered?” Lorelei asks.  “Because I want you to get rid of them.  Just let them go.”

Skye tries to protest. The most recent one, the way Grant smiled at in her in that store, pops like a bubble.  It’s gone.  And then their discussions from earlier.

Skye can’t remember what she’s doing here.  She can’t think, she can’t fight.  She can cry, though.  And she’s doing plenty of that.

“There’s a good girl,” Lorelei says.  “Don’t fight.”

  
  


She is fighting, though.  With every bit of will she can manage.  She’s trying to hold on Grant climbing into bed with her while simultaneously trying to destroy it.  Not this.  Not this.  She’s lost everything once and she’s not going to lose it again, she can’t.  Even as the feeling of his arm over her body starts to fade.  She fights it.

“Stop struggling,” Lorelei says.  “Look at me.  He doesn’t matter.  Don’t worry.”

It’s gone.  And she loses more after that.  She’s back at the diner, and he’s telling her not to drink the waitress and Skye can’t bring up fondness for him anymore, anything other than curious dread, and it’s leaving her.  All of it.

“So close,” Lorelei tells her.  “It’s almost done.”

She is dead.  She is dead on the side of a dirt road, but she’s not really dead, not at all.  She’s alive, somehow, and she gets the feeling she’s being watched.  She opens her eyes, and there is a man staring at her.

What’s his name? She has to know his name.  His face is fading.  He’s leaving her.  Who is he?  Who-

  
  


Someone screams.  Not Skye.  She can’t scream.

The voice belongs to Lorelei.  The scream is hers.  Skye can pull her eyes away.  She can look down.

The end of a bolt is pointing out of Lorelei’s chest. 

“Holy shit,” Skye says.  Which is, of course, the first thing she’d say with her free will back.

Lorelei spares Skye one last, desperate look.  And then she collapses.

  
  


Well.  She melts.  That’s the only word Skye can think to use.  One moment, she’s a beautiful, thousand year old vampire, and then she’s turning to bloody goop, falling down like slime, her hand no longer on Skye’s throat because she doesn’t have a hand anymore.  She’s nothing but a pile of blood and tissue.

Skye stays against the wall.  She twitches her fingers.  She brings her hand to her throat.

“God,” someone says.  “Why is it always so gross when they die?”  A man stares Skye down, holding a crossbow by his side.

“Killing vampires is messy, Antoine,” adds his partner, a girl as small as Skye.  She’s still half-enveloped by the shadows.  “Especially one that old.”

Antoine grins at her.  “Yeah, but you saw my shot, right?  Straight through the heart.  I’m a natural.”  He mimes shooting Lorelei for the benefit of his partner, grinning all the while.

Skye slides down the wall, shaking, gasping.  What just happened?  What the fuck is going on?  She eyes the goop, and then, and then-

Grant!  She’s over the pile, and at his side.  Grant.  She’d almost forgotten about him.  It had almost worked.

But it’s coming back.  It’s coming back quickly, and she remembers.

“Grant,” she whispers, on her knees.  The hunters (and that’s what they have to be) can wait.  She pull Grant’s head onto her lap.  His throat is halfway there, almost done.  And Lorelei was right.

If the hunters hadn’t shown up, Skye wouldn’t be in this alley anymore.  She doesn’t know where she’d be.  Or who’d she be.

“Should we-” Antoine asks, making Skye look up.  He’s gesturing towards her, asking the woman for permission.  The woman at his side is moving past Skye, dropping beside the spare body in the alley.  Skye watches her put her fingers against his pulse point.  He’s probably dead.  She’s probably killed him.

She turns away from the woman.  Looks back up to Antoine, his head framed by the lamplight.  “Please,” Skye gasps.  “I didn’t mean to hurt him.  Don’t kill us.”  She’s getting really sick of spending her nights begging.

“Oh,” Antoine says.  He gestures with his crossbow, tries to smile.  “We’re with Grant.  We’re the good guys.”

“The good guys?” Skye says.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” the woman says.  “Not when Grant asked us to help find you.”

“But you let him get hurt,” Skye says.  “You let her rip his throat out.”

“Distraction tactic,” Antoine says.  “I promise, we planned this.”

“Why would he agree to that?” Skye says, stroking Grant’s hair.  “Why would he let himself get hurt?”

“Because the only way to kill a thousand-year old vampire is to distract her,” Antoine replies.  “And because he’ll be fine.”

Skye shakes her head.  Wipes her eyes on her forearm.  “Oh, God,” Skye says.

“Yeah,” Antoine says.  “Crazy stuff.”

“Antoine,” the woman says.  “A little sympathy.”

Skye stares at the woman over her shoulder.  At her meal.  “I think I killed him,” Skye says.

“You didn’t,” the woman says.  “He’s pretty drained.  But we’ll call someone to help.”

Skye sniffles.  “But-”

“If Raina says he’s fine, then I’m sure he’s fine,” Antoine says.  “Or will be fine.  Whatever.”

Skye nods.  She looks back down at Grant, at the skin of his throat knitting itself back together.  “I’m sorry,” she murmurs.

There’s a hand on her shoulder.  Warm and reassuring.  “You didn’t do anything wrong,” Antoine says.  “You got kidnapped.  That’s on the crazy lady.  Not you.”

“But I wanted to go out,” Skye says.  “He wanted to stay in and drink bagged blood and I refused, I said I wouldn’t, and then all this happened and-”

“You couldn’t know,” Antoine says.  “We’ve been tracking Lorelei forever, it feels like.  We didn’t know she was just going to show up.  If anything, it’s our fault.”

“It’s not,” Raina says.

“Raina!” Antoine says.

“What?” she asks.

“I’m trying to help,” Antoine says.  “Do you mind?”

  
  


Grant coughs.  And Skye feels like she’s going to cry, again.  Which she hates.  She’s sick of crying.  She’s sick of feeling helpless.

“Grant?” she asks.

“Skye,” he replies, voice hoarse.  “We did it?”

She nods.  “You did it.”

He gives her a weak smile.  “Skye,” he repeats.  “I was so scared.”

“I’m sorry,” she says.  “I’m sorry, we should’ve stayed in.  I should’ve listened to you.”

He slowly places his hand on her cheek.  “It’s my fault,” he says.  “I didn’t protect you.”

Skye shakes her head.  “You did,” Skye says.  “You saved me.”

“How’re you feeling, Grant?” Antoine asks. 

“Not great,” Grant says.  He looks up at Skye, doesn’t move his hand from her cheek.  “But better than before.”

Skye manages a smile.  “Can you sit up?” she asks.  Not to get his head out of her lap, though.  She likes it there.  She feels safer holding him.

It takes him a moment.  He has to put his hand on her knee, and push himself up.  He groans under his breath.

“You’re getting old,” Antoine says.

Grant almost laughs.  “Shut up, Trip.”

“Trip?” Skye asks.

“That’s what everyone but Raina calls me,” Antoine (Trip?) says, shrugging. 

“I don’t like nicknames,” Raina says.

“I know,” Trip says.  He’s teasing Raina, smiling at their little joke.

Skye envies him and his grin and his sense of humor.  There’s blood everywhere.  There’s chunks of vampire in Skye’s dress.  There’s a half-dead human laying on the ground.

But Trip and Raina are the heroes.  They don’t have to be scared.  Not like Skye does.

“Hey,” Grant says.  His hand is on Skye’s shoulder.  “Can you stand?”

“Can you?” she asks.

He nods.  “Just give me a minute.”  She lets him pull away from her.  Stand up, stretch his back.  She should probably stand up, too.  But she still feels frozen.  Locked in her own body with nowhere to run.

Grant offers his hand.  “Are you sure you can stand?”

She should take his hand with her own.  She should stand.  She should flee the scene and pretend this whole thing never happened.

Instead, she stares over at the pile of goop that used to be Lorelei.

“Skye?” Grant asks.  “Do you need me to carry you?”

She doesn’t.  She’s not helpless.  Even if Grant’s saved her skin two nights in a row.  “I’m fine,” she says.  She pushes up off the pavement, wipes the dirt on her hands off on her dress.  “Shit,” she says, looking down.  “This was borrowed.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Grant says.

Skye looks up at him.  At the skin of his neck, pale and unblemished.  Not even a scar.  “You didn’t want me borrowing clothes, either,” Skye says.

“It’s not a big deal,” Grant says.  “What matters is that you’re okay.”

Skye shouldn’t hug him.  She’s a mess.  He’s covered in his own blood.  She’s covered in Lorelei’s.  She barely knows him.

But when she throws her arms around his neck and buries her face in his chest, he doesn’t push her away.

“Hey,” he whispers.  “Hey.  I’ve got you.  You’re safe.”

She nods against him, nose rubbing the fabric of his shirt.  “I almost lost you,” she says, into his clothes.

“What?” Grant asks.

Skye tilts her head back.  “Can we go home?” she says.  “Please?”

“Of course,” he says, stroking her hair.  “Anything you need.  Okay?”

“I’m sorry about the dress,” she says.  “I am.”

Grant leans forward.  Rests his chin on her head. “It’s not your fault,” he says.

She shivers when he strokes her hair.

  
  


“I hate to break this up,” Trip says.  “But Raina and I need to clean this up.”

“I’d offer to help,” Grant says.  “But-”

“Go,” Trip says.  “We’ve got it.”

“Thank you,” Grant says, breaking apart from Skye.  He keeps her hand on hers. 

Skye nods.  “If you hadn’t saved me when you had-”

“Don’t think about that,” Grant says to her, tugging on her hand.  “Losing you wasn’t an option.”

“You’re in good hands,” Trip says.  “And we’ve got your back.”

“Keep in touch,” Raina adds.

“Um,” Skye says.  “Sure?”

“Come on,” Grant says. “We should get you cleaned up.”

Skye squeezes his hand.  “I think that’s a good plan.”

  
  


She should make note of this.  That this is the second night in the road that she’s covered in blood, walking home with Grant.

Last night, she didn’t fully trust him.

But she trusts him with her life right now.  

Her unlife.  Whatever.  She’s not even sure she really knows him.

She might not have been in control of her body, but she remembers what he looks like when he’s angry.  When he intends to kill.

She wonders if that darkness is always there, or if she brought it out of him.  She wonders if he’s hiding something from her.

She doesn’t let go of his hand.

“You okay?” he asks her.

She stares straight ahead.  Each step feels impossibly heavy.  But she moves.  “I’ll be okay,” she says.  She’s not sure if she means it.  She’s not sure if she has any other choice.


End file.
